


be not defeated by the rain

by redphlox



Category: Soul Eater
Genre: AU, F/M, Legend of Zelda AU, breath of the wild AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-21
Updated: 2018-07-21
Packaged: 2019-06-14 01:37:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 19,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15377820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redphlox/pseuds/redphlox
Summary: Life’s a cycle. People live, people die. Kingdoms thrive, kingdoms fall. Evil is sealed, evil is released. Maka’s cycle was supposed to end decades ago. But she’s been given a second chance, even if she doesn’t remember the first one. With the past only speaking to her in dreams, through ghosts, and in the cries of a trapped prince, the last soldier stands alone, a glowing scythe in her hands. Only as her journey progresses does she realize how much she has to lose… And how much she’s already lost.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hello hellow yellow i am proud to present to y’all this Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild AU that @cosmic-absentia whipped up for reverb 2018! please head over to her tumblr and check out the amazing artwork she created and make sure to send her love! i had tons of fun working with her, this has been a rewarding project and i hope y’all enjoy this fic. and of course, shoutout to @professor-maka and @piercelovewonton for the betaing, i owe them my soul.

**be not defeated by the rain** by  _redphlox_

Out of the darkness Maka wakes, meeting a different kind of loneliness than the one before.  _Am I alone? Am I real?_ She can't even be sure her eyes are open; the abyss here is the same as the other: hollow, unending. Uncertainty lies everywhere. She's still weightless, floating, neither here nor there, non-existent, defeated…

Willing to die if it means living again.

It's clear she's gone wrong somewhere along the line. The mourning and guilt attached to her are permanent, but the reasoning behind them are fuzzy at best.

Mind blank, Maka opens and closes her hands, testing her body, confirming its existence, reacquainting herself with the ability to move. She scrunches her nose, contorts her face, rests a palm on her chest, searching for a heartbeat. Some sign of life. She takes a deep, long breath-

Except she  _can't._

Water rushes into her mouth like a ship that just struck an iceberg.

Screaming doesn't help.

With blood curdling panic, her eyes snap open for  _real_  and adjust to the murky green darkness, taking in the limestone walls around her, the faint sunlight streaming in from the surface above, and the absolute blackness below.

She's  _underwater_.

' _Swim! Swim!'_

Limbs flailing out of sync, she's writhing,  _losing._  Horror is the realization that she hasn't been breathing and might never breathe again, not with her nostrils treacherously sucking in water and her hair wrapping itself around her face every time she does manage to inch herself upwards.

She can't breathe, she needs to breathe, she can't  _breathe_ … Maybe she took her last breath a while ago, and the regret of not savoring it is only surpassed by not remembering it either.

Exhaustion hits, the urgency for air magnifying the more she moves. Which way is up? What if it's a trick again, what if this is a dream within her dream within a dream within a dream? Maka falls limp and lets herself drift lower with an arm outstretched overhead, yearning for the surface and its light. It's so… familiar. It's fading and so is she, all while there's an encouraging whisper in her head that isn't in her own voice:

' _SWIM!'_

Understanding dawns on Maka, a faraway connection forming in her brain as her legs scissor kick and arms fight to part the water above her. Oh, so  _that's_ how her limbs work! The phantom touch slips away no matter how fast she swims to chase it, but even that memory fades into smoke and dissipates as she breaks the surface-

Suddenly, air! And wet hair matted to her forehead. And light! Cue chest heaving, hacking, gasping for air, air,  _air_. Once she is assured that she has mastered breathing again, Maka rubs her eyes, opening them wide, because trust is a finicky thing and she's not going to let her guard down again. Water drops slide down her face as she blinks up at the perfect circle opening above, revealing a cloudless blue sky…

_A way out!_

Surveying the dome-like rock walls prompt her to question her judgment once again, which glow blue the longer she stares, a vein-like maze embedded in the sediment. Following the paths for their source leads Maka to her second surprise: a small shrine behind her, carved into the side of a boulder, a pile of clothes lying there as if waiting for her awakening.

She finds her voice, finds that it doesn't shake, but echoes in the chamber. "... Am I alone?"

Of course she is, and will be. It's a rhetorical question, a statement, a fact. Now that she thinks about it, she doesn't even know her last name, what she looks like, or how she got here, though suspicion inspires the idea that she's been asleep for years. Given the stiff, lead-like state of her bones, like she's stirring from her grave, maybe it's not a far off guess.

But then… Why is she awake? Why is she… here?

Why is she  _alone_?

Pulling herself up into the platform and out of the water, Maka collapses in a heap of coughing fits that threaten to pop both her lungs and the blood vessels in her eyes. She's unaware of her nakedness until she gathers her wits enough to inspect the clothing. Without much thought to the convenience, she pulls on the leggings and forest green tunic and can't help but wonder if guardian angels exist or if her luck is starting to take the turn for the best. When she steps into the steel toed boots and walks around in them, marveling that they fit perfectly as she stretches, the fairy statue mounted on a ledge above the platform comes into focus. It's pointing  _up_  with a small finger that looks too soft to be made of stone, a scythe held in its other hand.

Maka's hand closes instinctively at the sight of it, like she's done it a million times before.

Maybe it's true. Maybe she lost in another life and has started a new one.

After all, she did say she would die to live -

X

_\- again!_

_Life is a cycle. People live, people die. Kingdoms thrive, kingdoms fall. Evil is released, evil is resealed. These all stand true for the Evans Royal family and the Kingdom of Shibusen since the contract with Lord Death._

_The legend begins with the first King, a man named Asura, who becomes obsessed with power - limitless, absolute control over all things living and nonliving. At the height of his mortal madness, he offers his body to Lord Death for guaranteed immortality. Lord Death agrees, finding the agreement convenient, nesting within the human's body so It can kill Dark Evil with a single touch instead of relying on tamed Kishin messengers._

_The thought never once occurs to Lord Death that Asura could overcome and take over Its power, that the human half would conquer Death itself. After all, hints of Asura's derangement had not fazed Lord Death before- not until Asura's soul encroached on Its own._

_Asura defeats Lord Death in a slow mind battle of willpower, and then darkness swallows the land. Literal blackness, a fog so thick it could be mistaken for eternal twilight. Kishin, no longer under the docile trance of Lord Death, swarm Shibusen and beyond, devouring all flesh and souls in their path. Witches regain their confiscated powers and enchant humans to maim and commit unforgivable sins._

_Death lives everywhere._

_The world ends, but it doesn't. Not yet. It's said that Lord Death split what was left of his own soul- the silly portion of it, because the world needed goofiness to resist the dark times waiting ahead- and hid, attaching Itself to the oldest tree in the Lost Woods to nurture its wounds._

_Hell continues to torment humanity and all of its creatures, both pure and corrupt. It's a curse, the people said, a curse that can only be righted by the heir with the Divine Power, a gift from a God more powerful than Lord Death Itself, may It return to reign._

_The people revolt. Not against the government, but against the new immortal King, Asura. Shaman after shaman research a long forgotten legend: the Divine Beasts- spirit animals graced with heavenly control over the elements to seal away any grain of immorality. The bird, Vah Medoh, keeper of Wind. The stag, Vah Ruta, keeper of Water. Vah Naboris, the camel, keeper of Lightning. And lastly, the salamander, Vah Rudania, keeper of Flames._

_No more lives can afford to be lost. The shamans gather- experienced and inexperienced, young and old- and call upon the Divine Beasts, and in a flash of light, quicker than Asura took over, he's sealed away. Whether Lord Death abstained from the opportunity to detach Itself from the tainted human body or willingly yielded to the confinement remains unknown, but the fact stands that part of him lives, healing._

_Peace reigns for thousands of years, and the Evans family eventually wins the Shibusen throne back after a short lived Civil War. Though Evans after Evans lives and dies, all of them equally groomed with the hope of possessing the Divine Gift, to be prepared if or when Asura breaks free, the Chosen one still doesn't appear._

_That is, until Kishin begin to surface, signaling the return of Asura and the beginning of King Wes's rule._

_The night before he unexpectedly ascends the throne, a Kishin slithers into Shibusen Castle and feasts on Wes's parents as they slumber. The Queen and her husband's souls leave this Earth together, but their mangled bodies remain. It's quite a sight for their youngest son to walk into, a living nightmare for him to burst into their bedroom the next morning and trip over a baby Kishin that has had its fill. Screams steal his voice for several hours after, even after the danger subsides. Bloody footprints mark his path as he runs to the east wing, searching for his older brother, passing by other ghastly Kishin scurrying overhead like bugs or swooping down to peck his skull open like birds of prey._

_When Soul Evans bursts into Wes's room, he's greeted by dejavu: another Kishin, this one in the shape of a slimy beetle, crawling all over a semiconscious Wes sprawled on the imported rug._

_It just- happens. Soul's hands glow and buzz with Power. Complete, Pure Power. The Gift given to the Evans blood finally wakens at the prospect of its owner losing someone so precious. Soul seals the Kishin away by merely holding his palms at while the royal guard battle Kishin after Kishin on the castle grounds. But the vile things are endless, as if the ground opened up like an anthill and they marched out with the sole purpose to wreak havoc._

_Horns sound in the surrounding towns, calling for their people to bear arms, to fight. On the other side of the castle, stirred awake from her dreams by her mama defending her from a glowing Kishin that has no business wielding a sword, Maka Albarn sprints for her life. Trespassing into the royal armory feels like more of a calling than a crime for reasons unexplained to her - she's always wanted to be a knight like her mama and papa, but this invisible pull… maybe a magnet -_

_Back in Wes's bedroom, Soul and Wes embrace, loathing to let each other go. Permanent separation is a risk neither are willing to take. Though they share no words, the tension speaks for them: yes, it's good the Power has finally awakened, but why did it have to be one of them? Why, when they're all they have left? Why do they have to-_

_In Soul's mind's eye, he sees the royal treasury, despite being on the other side of the castle. A girl walks in, peeking inside, tucking a pigtail behind her ear before shutting the door and walking up the red carpet in bare feet. The infamous Master Scythe sits in its case, the same one none have handled correctly. She dares to open the glass, hesitating as she hovers a hand over-_

" _OH," Soul breathes. "Maybe…" He watches her expertly lift the scythe and swing it around like she must have done it a million times in a previous life. Something about her presence fits nicely with his soul, despite never having met her. "Maybe I'm not alone in this, Wes."_

_And maybe… another fragment of Lord Death has broken free of Asura's control and joined It in the woods. Maybe a God stronger than Lord Death has given humanity a second-_

X

-chance. A misstep could cost Maka dearly, but she's as graceful as she is dazed, and blindly following her gut instinct. Scaling the rock wall is easier said than done, especially with her limbs still partially numb and unfamiliar. By the time she reaches the ledge and admires the statue up close, scratches adorn her brand new boots, sediment dusts her face, and sweat and blood cake her palms. She wipes them on her leggings before trailing a finger on the statue's cheek, gazing into its petrified eyes, mesmerizing by the fine detail in its lashes and curly hair.

It's as if the statue could come alive at any moment. Taking the scythe from its grasp feels like stealing, but it neither scolds nor attacks Maka for removing its weapon. The old farmer scythe's dull blade and rusty rod don't inspire confidence that she could defend herself for long if needed, but it's better than nothing.

Oh - maybe she should care of the cuts on her palms before leaving the shrine. After washing off, Maka looks at her hands like she's missing something she lost long ago, but cherished, maybe a pair of-

X

_-gloves. It's most definitely not a sentimental gift that Soul angsted over and sacrificed both sleep and a hefty portion of his secret runaway savings funds to afford, not a gesture that stems from wanting to protect her when they're apart. Surely the gloves aren't a token to remember him by, because he would prefer anything over leaving the luxury within the castle walls to join her into the unknown._

_At eighteen, Soul Evans is tethered to the crown, not to a pigtailed knight his older brother- his royal highness King Wes Evans - appointed as his body guard, the very same one that scolds him for mumbling under his breath and jabs a finger in his back to remind him to stand tall. Not only does she protect his life, but she's fun when she's not serious, and even then Soul finds himself comfortable in her presence. Safer. Accepted._

_It's not that she changed him exactly, because people don't 'fix' other people, but it's easier to be compassionate toward himself when in the presence of such a kind person who sets an example. Not only has she pried him out if his shell little by little, but she's taught him to take risks, and he's held her back from a few, too._

_They make a great team - or they could be, if he learned to match her talent with her scythe by mastering his powers._

_But… Duties are duties._

_Still, it's all about loyalty to the memory of his parents, and he inherited his duties from them. The thought that he could choose a future of his liking is dangerous to entertain, especially while watching Maka hike up an eyebrow._

" _That's so… practical of you." Bright sunlight scorches her sandy hair gold as she tilts her head, thoughtful, corners of her mouth pinching._

" _Your hands are all rough and calloused," he explains, willing his pulse to calm down. Everything is okay, he lies to himself. "These should protect them."_

" _So you want me to…" Her voice is equals parts confused and charmed. "... Have soft hands?"_

" _Safe hands." Self loathing is his middle name. Even his blood hates him right now. It's pounding in his ears, probably trying to clot and kill him before he embarrasses himself more. "I just want you to be safe. All of you. The Kishin that's been roaming outside the village sounds… Bad." He gulps down the word 'lethal', afraid of jinxing her. "Just come back safe."_

_Maka dislikes broken promises more than thunderstorms and the fact that everything she's ever planted has died- absolutely detests them more than mistreated books and the tiniest of injustices, including miscounted change, so he doesn't ask for her commitment to something she might not be able to keep._

" _So…" Now it's her turn to fidget, to kick at the grass, searching for words, but coming up empty. "This is goodbye for now."_

_Soul notices her mouth for the first time, regret swelling in his chest. A sense of inexplicable loss blooms there, too, an afterthought. "Yeah well, don't get-"_

X

"... Lost in the woods," she whispers to herself, testing her hearing for the tenth time. Again, she's doubting reality, for it's too silent amongst the trees and shadows dancing in her periphery to let her guard down. Twilight casts a glow on the patches of grass and dirt on the path, the absence of rustling wind or creeping animals unsettling. It's still. Barren. Dead.

As the seemingly only living being for miles around, Maka tightens her hold on the scythe, walking as lightly as she can over twigs and patches of grass and matted dirt. Melancholy finds a home in her chest. In the hours since she wandered out of the shrine, she's not stumbled upon any roads or signs of life, nor has she been able to climb a tree tall enough to look for a way out of the woods. It's never ending, stretching far into the horizon.

But her mama didn't raise a quitter. Maybe. Not that Maka remembers much. Perhaps she's making up the figments of a mother with long brown hair and a father with red hair, and snippets of gathering flowers with them on a glorious summer's day. There are images of herself older, without either parent, alone, a bow and arrow in hand. And there's someone else too, someone with eyes so rich and brown, they're red-

A twig snaps, Maka freezes, and she vows to hold her ground and act normal in an attempt to throw off whoever or whatever plans to sneak up on her. She scans her surroundings, pulse quickening. Fight or flight? Fight... or flight? Fight or…

Fight.

Two things happen: a dark, jagged shadow leaps at her from the tree tops- she hadn't been looking  _up_ , how could she have neglected looking  _up_ for danger? - and muscle memory takes over. She drives her scythe through the creature's face, taking advantage of the Kishin's surprise to finish the deed, twisting the blade around its skull cavity once she slams it onto the ground.

Great. Not even thirty minutes out of the shrine and she almost died. Again. And- where did she learn to use this scythe? If she hadn't, the Kishin's long, spear-like claw would have pierced her stomach.

It's… as if she's come close to meeting her fate like this before.

Anyway, now that it's dead, she's alone again. All she can hear is her own ragged breathing… And a voice in her head that isn't her own, but is equally familiar, faraway and nostalgic, becoming clearer:  _"Maka, remember that I'll follow you-"_

X

" _\- to the ends of the Earth."_

_They're still standing in the garden, saying goodbye, the gloves not yet on her hands. Maka squints at him, a glint in her wary, curious stare. "That's romantic and all, but…"_

_Soul's chest bumps with impending disappointment. He eggs her on, despite wanting to throw up, wanting to face the ugly reality of his one sided feelings head-on for once. "But?"_

_The ease in her shrug stings more than the certainty in her bright voice. "But you don't have to, and I'd never ask you to."_

_There's no time to blink or conjure up a witty remark to mask his heartache. Much like her skills with her scythe, she's too fast with her words, direct and cutthroat. Soul swears the world spins as he watches her mouth move, but logic convinces him it's his nerves acting up._

" _Because I'd want you to go with me." She breaks into a mischievous little smirk that catches even her by surprise, if the pink watercoloring her cheeks is a trustworthy sign. "Because you crossing the world for me implies we'll be apart, and I want us to be together for as long as we can be."_

_Funny how fast his pulse sped up. Lord, he must be coming down with the plague! "Oh! That's great- uh, I mean… I guess." He pauses to suck in a deep breath and scoops her into a hug when filling his lungs with spring air isn't enough._

" _So you'll go with me?" comes her muffled, relieved voice._

_For once Soul stops to bask in the moment instead of sitting back and wondering how much he'll miss these moments with her when she eventually outgrows him, either by her choice or at Time's will. At least the gloves should always fit and be part of her. Hopefully. His and Maka's lives overlap nicely at the moment, but ultimately, they aren't meant to last or develop further than body-guard-turned-friendship. Royals can't attach themselves too much to their knights; the latter have sworn to die in battle if needed, all in the name to protect the Evans crown and the kingdom._

_Maka Albarn is no different. He can read her microexpressions better than he can decipher his own feelings. Regret shines in her eyes; she knows she's overstepped, takes it all back once she remembers their situation, wishes he'll let her down gently._

_Eye contact with her has never been so hard. A split second turns a moment from sweet to bitter before he shakes his head. "I… have to stay and protect this place," is all he can manage, leaving the rest of sentence to finish sourly in his head: even though I don't know how to use my powers and I'm useless._

_Her face falls for a split second before putting on a forced smile. "Okay, I'll go-"_

X

"- alone?"

Maka's head snaps toward the voice, her blood icing over. Brown eyes are the first thing she sees when she lifts her head, the realization dawning on her as slow as honey that she's looking at another person. Danger lies in strangers and the night, and the unknown, and in the vulnerability of losing her weapon. Good thing swinging this scythe around comes to her like second nature. A slight flick of her wrist, and its blade reflects light on the man's face, though he doesn't supply her with any reaction at all.

"No, not alone, just…" Should she attack before he does? By the looks of his robes and his worn face, he's a traveler. "Looking for myself."

"Few dare travel through these woods after the moon has risen." He nods to the still, furry creature at her blood stained boots. "Few make it out alive."

"Hunt or be hunted," she muses, and when he nods his approval of her assessment, she doesn't miss a beat to ask, "So, which are you?"

"I am neither a hunter nor the hunted." Sorrow twists his features, though it's faint and muted, like neither the emotion nor he belong to this world. "Or perhaps I'm both and always will remain that way."

Irritation is easier to feel than disorientation, so she snarls. "Don't beat around the bush. Just tell me-"

"If you listen with your heart, you'll hear everything. You'll hear  _him_. Maka, you're not-"

X

_-alone, now that his parents are gone. Life is bland without them, but it's livable._

_Barely._

_Without his mother's advice over piano lessons and carriage outings to symphonies, without breakfast with her every morning, there no longer exists a reason for Soul to untangle himself from his bedsheets. The Queen prioritized quality time with her youngest son because, as cliche as it sounds, she had always said her boys ranked far more important than her kingdom. But now she's here for neither._

_Despite his recent loss, Soul clings to the last remnants of hope that maybe she'll defeat Death and return from the dead. Normalcy will reign again. His father will sing and hum from room to room like always, no matter what he's up to, and will continue to spin positives out of bad news. Wes will return to his cheery self and take back his command to let Soul research the Divine Beasts and find answers for his power at the temples. He'll withdraw his mission for Soul to become someone he's not: a savior._

_Until then, Soul refuses to get up. He'll raise treacherous hell from the comfort of his bed if the energy ever presents itself. As long as he's under the care of an older brother who might as well be dead too, because Wes is scarcely around since being crowned King, Soul doesn't want to live in this reality._

_But…_

_Even with all this perfect happiness in Soul's life before the rise of Asura, even with all this love he's missing, he still…_

_Has a hole inside. Is stuck in a hole. Feels like the negative space in a hole._

_Life has always been… boring. Snippets of joy are only a reprise from that emptiness. Apathy is a constant, lurking behind a thin facade he has learned to wear. No reason exists for such lackluster, either. It just… is. No emotion hits Soul with full impact, not devastation, not recovery. Only limbo. Only dullness._

_There's a knock on his door. It opens and a neatly combed head pokes through._

" _Get up. Please begin preparing," Wes says, neither a request nor a demand. He has a way of saying things and getting people to spring into action, but Soul can't find it within himself to obey. He's his own person. Rebellious, smart mouthed, tender on the inside… And wallowing in his failures, his flaws. God knows he has an abundance of those, and it's why his parents are dead and Kishin now roam the woods, why more continue to die, why his only remaining family member isn't recognizable._

" _Maka went home to pick up some of her belongings, but she'll be here shortly for the journey." Wes shakes Soul's shoulder, gently and rough all at the same time. "I'm aware you don't agree with my decision-"_

" _She called me a piranha faced jerk," Soul montones, reliving the moment he and Wes caught her by surprise in the treasury. One look at Soul and she had dropped the Master Scythe with a squeaky yelp, scolding him for sneaking up on her and inciting a bickering quarrel as if the Kingdom wasn't currently in peril._

" _I'm sure she didn't mean it maliciously." Wes smiles gently to soften his next words: "But I insist that she become your permanent guard, Soul. You must travel with her to recruit Champions and learn to control your powers. And you must get along. Her presence may be the key to unlocking-"_

" _I don't believe in Fate and all that." There is no harshness to Soul's voice, only a tiredness he can't seem to shake or resign himself to. "I don't like the idea of being tied to someone just because some God or other mythological person said so. Where's the consent in that? Free will? I don't want to force anything, no thanks."_

" _Even so, there is no denying your bond with her after what-" Wes's voice catches, instilling in Soul a glimmer of relief that his brother is still the same one he admired. "After… what happened to Mother and Father a few days ago. But together, you and Maka will save the Kingdom from Evil forever. We must ensure no one else endures the same pain we have."_

_Receiving no response, Wes excuses himself- duties await him, as his title of 'older brother' now comes in second._

_Soul declines to follow orders to start his day, thinking too much for his own health. When he looks at Maka as she breezes into his room and sets her bags down in a corner, when he really looks at her face and easy, self-assured movements and comes to terms that she has scar tissue and veins and blood and bones and a heart and a soul underneath her skin, all he can feel is alone. How could he possibly reach her through all those barriers, how can she possibly reach him in return? He feels impossibly abandoned, but at least he's-_

X

\- brave, and willing to try, because it's happened before. She's heard him since she woke up. Maka's memory fails her, but bits and pieces of the past flicker on and off in the corner of her mind. Blue skies. Fields of poppies. Castle walls. The shops at the weekend market. Her bow and arrow. Her scythe. A boy who nicknamed her 'Pigtails' after he learned to tie her hair -

"Soul," she says, the name feeling right on her lips. What did he look like? Oh, right… Hair so blond it reminded Maka of white sheets, and pale eyebrows to match. Pointy teeth, a lonely air about him, and walls so high around his heart, she didn't think he required her service as his knight. He had been doing excellently on his own.

"Yes." A distant melancholy hangs in the air like fog. "My dear younger brother. He loved me, but I let him down at the very end. At my end." He sighs. "But you- he grew to love you too, despite your differences."

Maka's laugh is foreign to her own ears, but wistful as memories click into place. "Eventually we did." And it's true, he thought her to be a know-it-all goody-to-shoes. She deemed him a rude, snarky brat, nothing years of traveling together couldn't fix, of slaying Kishin and hunting their own food and sharing a tent when they lost his during a wild bear chase.

The memories crash down on her like stone walls. Inside she's exploding with the need to see him in person, to hold his hand like they did when they crossed high wooden bridges or when one of them couldn't rest because they missed their parents too much. But that's not all. Yes, now she's remembering… As they grew older and his  _I'm with you_ morphed from annoyed, preteen huffs to kind reassurances spoken in a deeper rumble that set her cheeks ablaze. The hand holding became a more meaningful gesture. Contemplating  _why_  drove her crazy until he rubbed his thumb against hers and the thoughts dissipated temporarily.

"I want to see him-"

Wes shakes his head, closing his eyes as if seeing hurt. "It's been a hundred years…"

_Oh_. The implications send her stomach to her feet and back again. A hundred…

"So he's dea - how am I not?"

Sadness. Loss. These are feelings that will follow her all her life, as will the love her parents gave her growing up, as will the childhood memories that hit her all at once without remorse. Mama and Papa are gone. Gone. She's alone -

"Even if he were dead, you're not alone, Maka. He managed to seal Asura away, but he… he sealed himself away too. Soul has been keeping him at bay. Please, I  _beg_  of you - Battle the Divine Beasts." Wes speaks for what seems like hours, filling Maka's blanks of the night her mama fought her last battle and lost, how her papa died right beside his wife. There's no space to weep for her parents, but she'll make room later on when she succeeds.

Because she will. If she doesn't, she'll burn from within from the injustice of it all. She  _must_  defeat Asura once and for all.

"Free those under their oppression. Then my soul and those of the Champions can move on. We remain uneasy until then." Wes sighs. "And above all... save-"

X

" _-Soul!"_

_The last thing Wes probably glimpses before he dies is Soul running into the throne room. Later on it haunts Soul to think that his brother's last emotion had been worry. The sight of red trickling through Soul's white hair and down his face like streaks of paint must have distracted him- if he hadn't turned his head to see Soul, maybe Asura's spear would have missed Wes Evans and his skull completely._

_From the brief once over, it looked like Wes was going to die anyway. Ice covered his chest, but that doesn't console Soul in the least._

_It should have been him. Survivor's guilt gnaws at him as a sickening smile spreads on Asura's face. No matter how many times his parents claimed that he had been born with a Divine Gift, his continuous prayer to any and all Gods unlocked his sealing power. The only thing he's able to seal and keep away from his loved one is the despair that he's not good at the one thing fate's chosen for him: sealing away Evil._

_And now, even that's glaringly obvious._

_To think… mere hours earlier, he and Maka had bid each other a temporary goodbye, not knowing that their separation would cost the Kingdom dearly. In her absence, Asura rose to his greatest power by day break, despite Soul's fruitless attempts to awaken his power. The Champions each die, killed from inside their own Beasts, and everything in the castle and its surrounding town fall, decimated in the wave of monsters and madness. Fire and chaos sweep his mother's gardens and his father's study- but that's not what hurts a sentimental Soul the most._

" _I'm sorry, Wes. I'm sorry I couldn't… s-save you," he mourns, a pang of self loathing thundering through his chest. Now he's more alone than ever. Tears and blood mix on his face as he takes in the devastation, the taste of iron swimming in his mouth magnified by his fear of dying next - the ultimate failure to the kingdom, his kingdom._

_By daybreak, it's clear he's lost the throne. Despite his fighting Kishin and dodging Asura's attacks, he's lost Shibusen. He's lost it ALL. A desperate attempt to escape inspires him to jump off the castle wall. Landing in the river below doesn't drown his sorrows, but it does grant him another moment to grieve. He hadn't even been given the chance to bury -_

_X_

"- Wes, I don't know if I can do this. Don't give this to me - I don't want it." Maka rubs the material of the paraglider between her fingers. Not quite cloth, not quite canvas. "I'm not ready. I'm confused. I'm-"

Wes's hand glides right through her shoulder when he attempts to console Maka. It's akin to mist, cool and refreshing, barely existent. Distress colors his face at the jarring realization. For someone who towers over her, he suddenly seems so small. The urge to protect him from reality blooms within Maka as he nods as if accepting his current state.

"I have done all in my power to help you."

In an instant he has retreated to the shadows, but she still has to admit it to herself: "No, Wes, come back! I'm..."

No, she refuses to feel alone, not when Soul is still alive out there and waited a hundred years for her to awaken and help him finish this battle. Maka closes her eyes, picturing his face, the dimple in his cheek, his lopsided grin. What other things made Soul... unique?

Hmm… he sang, said he got it from his father. He read aloud to her, and when books were scarce because they wandered into the countryside or another remote area, he made things up. Listening to his voice was -  _is -_ a secret love of hers. There's no other word for it.

"Soul, are you there?" she says to no one.

…  _Right here, Maka._

She squints to avoid crying. "It's  _you_ , oh my God! I'm-"

X

" _\- so scared!"_

_Maka clings to him in the woods after he finally catches up to her hours after the attack in the castle. Sobs crack his ribs - Wes is gone and Soul is alone, so alone, an heir to a fallen throne. All the blame rests on his shoulders because he's... beyond... useless._

_Shushing him, Maka kisses his forehead to heal his anguish, but he's already too far gone for condolences. Her lips press against his skin with a desperate hopelessness that feels too much like a permanent goodbye. No- he refuses to accept this fate, what about free will? What about all the places they promised to explore together, what about helping each other heal from their hurt?_

_Soul holds on tightly to her too, memorizing her face in case he's wrong and they don't make it to safety. A Kishin with a hyena cackle bit off one of her pigtails and left three claw marks transversing her face before she brought it down. The mark is an omen, but Soul seals his mouth shut, lest he not further tempt the same Fate he once doubted. Never in their five years journeying together and fighting alongside one another has Soul witnessed Maka crumble like this, shaking like she's submerged in a tub of ice, nails digging into his biceps out of fear of losing him._

_And he'll admit it that he's petrified too. Paralyzed. The woods are deep and dark and the shadows twitching around them belong to more Kishin, each one with its own unique terror. Long, blood starved fangs, razor-like nails, incredible speed, a penchant for playing with their prey. Death is a guarantee out here amongst the rotting trees and grass that never grows anymore._

_Maka yanks him so hard, he's halfway wondering how long he'd survive with his arm ripped off before his feet respond and he stumbles after her. "C'mon, we need to keep running-"_

_The pessimist in him wants to collapse amongst the dead insects littering the yellowing grass. To surrender and meet Death sooner rather than later. Everything around them is fading fast, anyway… at least Wes went quickly. But one look at Maka's wide, fiery green eyes and Soul's will to survive wins over his initial automatic resignation._

_After all, there is so much more left for him in this life, even in this growing dearth. Surely the world will continue to wither away the longer Asura reigns- Evil paints everything black over time, but he, Soul Evans,_ can  _master his Divine gift, in memory of his family and his Kingdom, for Maka, for himself -_

_It happens in the blink of an eye. A bloodied spear materializes out of the blue, splitting the air with high velocity and impales itself in Maka's gut. She didn't see it coming, but she's miraculously left standing, stubborn and clenching her jaw._

_Soul's instinct is to protect her as she stands there in disbelief, holding the rod dug inches above her belly button - he couldn't impede his family's death because he's cursed to fall two steps behind tragedy, but this time he's ahead and he'll challenge Fate to obey his will: for him and Maka to survive. Rage boils within Soul as he tears his gaze away from his best friend to meet the Kishin responsible for Maka's low whimpers, for her careful breaths, which they both know are numbered._

_It's only a shadow. All black, no definitive body - only a misty apparition with blurry edges, no face, no humanity. Opening its mouth as it dives down to eat her whole reveals more darkness, this one darker in all senses of the word._

_And then it - just happens again, finally, probably too late. The familiar buzz ignites in his palms, spreading out to his fingers, and the light shoots and blinds them all. When it ebbs to a glow, he and Maka are entombed in a dome-like safety net._

_Then silence. Nothing. The finality of Maka's injury hits. He'll be alone soon..._

_But - only if he lets it happen. For once, Soul relates to Asura and his crazed, unreasonable mission to escape Death._

" _Don't pull the spear… out," he begs Maka. Leaving it be would prolong her pain but it would also extend her life. His mind races- yes, yes, there's a Resurrection Shrine nearby, if they're where he thinks they are, and- YES, it has to work, he's NOT ALONE HE REFUSES TO LOSE SOMEONE ELSE!_

_Still, nothing numbs the blow that this is... All. His. Fault._

_Already paling, Maka flashes her best happy-go-lucky grin at him, though barely unshed tears give her true feelings away. "Guess I'll run around with this new accessory…"_

_Except she can't run, that's foolishness. Soul carries her bride style deeper into the woods, praying that no other Kishin assaults them along the way to the Resurrection Shrine, but none dare. Clearly they'd rather watch the pair suffer from the periphery, offering high pitched giggles and taunts and giddy screeches that muffle through the thin veil of protection he summoned._

_Maka talks to him about everything and anything as they travel until she can't say another word. Until her grip around his neck slackens. Soul gulps down a terrible loneliness whenever too many seconds pass between feeling her stirring, relishing in her soft breathing, speeding up to reach their destination before it's too late._

_Laying her to rest at the foot of the fairy statue and rinsing the mud out of her hair is almost like burying her. Tongue tied, Soul leans in close to kiss her on the mouth - and then changes his mind inches away. Where's the consent in that? And besides, it isn't the right time and it would feel too much like a farewell. Leaving the shrine without her reminds him too much of abandoning Wes's body at the castle, which then twists his guts into nauseating knots._

_Still… duties are duties. Soul must return and seal Asura, this is a fact. He must go, even if he's alone. Perhaps he's been -_

" _Hey, hey, hey!" a disembodied voice sing-songs, much too chipper._

_Soul tenses, nerves on high alert._

" _Have no fear, young Soul! Or should I say KIIING?"_

_That has Soul glaring, on edge, ready for a fight. How has news of Wes's death spread this deep into the Lost Woods? And why does it bring this stranger joy? Soul tightens his grip on the Master Scythe, summoning memories of studying Maka as she trained with it, wondering if he can possibly channel her grace and agility. "Who goes there? Show yourself!"_

" _I'm here, in a tree!"_

_Soul rolls his eyes, grateful for the chance to feel something other than unbearable loss. "Don't be an assh - ugh!" A round, hard, ball-shaped something or other ricochets off his temple. The impact spot smarts, and Soul rubs it to assuage the pain. "God, you almost killed me-"_

" _How dare you take my name in vain?"_

_The longer he stares the thick trunk and its lines and raised grooves, the more it all comes together. Three circles arranged in an upside down triangle formation, the oblong face shape, the outline of a cloak carved into the tree bark…_

"You're… Lord Death. And you're… actually a tree. So that part of the legend wasn't dumb buffoonery..."

" _Correct."_

" _... Which question are you answeri- you know what? Forget it." Soul's patience for idiotic small talk borders on zero. Playing games with a God who squatted in a greedy human's body and couldn't sense the evil lurking within isn't on his to-do list._

_The Great Deku Tree blocks his path with a thick branch. "Where are you traveling with such a long face?"_

_Soul doesn't give the tree the satisfaction of an exasperated sigh. He swings a leg over the branch, climbing over easily. "To visit your better half."_

" _Ouch," the Tree gasps without much emotion, probably hoping Soul won't notice a thinner branch curling around his ankles. "Maybe I'm deserving of that remark, but -"_

" _Let go of my leg!"_

_An ounce of pity enters the God's voice. "My dear frowny child, you cannot confront -"_

_A string of swears spouts from Soul's mouth. Unable to contain his fury, he kicks until he's escaped the tree's clutches, and when snapping a few dying leaves off isn't enough, he pounds his fists into every open part of the branch. Both Lord Death and Soul's knuckles shriek in protest, but why should it matter, why should he stop if he'll soon be dead too?_

" _Stop kicking me, I'm older than time itself!"_

" _You're an irresponsible BAST-"_

" _No, I think you are," Lord Death chimes matter of factly, struggling to calm Soul. "You're the one walking back to the enemy with a weapon you don't know how to use. Such a pretty scythe. Asura and the rest of my soul will love to slice you open with it. At least leave it in my care until your lovely knight awakens, my dear frowny King."_

_Soul halts his attacks, realizing he'd forgotten about throwing Maka's scythe and her gloves onto the ground. "Okay, that's… Reasonable."_

" _Now now, King, don't cry." If a soothsayer ever told Soul he'd burst into tears while beating up a tree in the middle of Karok Forest within the Lost Woods, and that it would comfort him, Soul would have snorted. But that's exactly what happens. The Great Deku tree offers him Its leaves to blow his nose while reassuring Soul it'll be okay. He's the Chosen one, after all._

" _You'll restore this whole deteriorating, ugly, filthy world to its previous splendor!" When Soul refuses to reply, the Tree brushes Soul's hair back and points in the direction of the Temple Soul sealed. "So, what's her name?"_

_Soul sniffles, pulling himself together. "Maka."_

" _Last name?"_

" _Albarn." He can't help the defensive edge in his tone, can't help but resent the stupid tree inhabitant for ruining... literally everything. "Want her date of birth, too?"_

_Cue a smirk. "Is she your sweetie mayhaps, your cutie-pa-tootie?"_

" _Shut up and guard her," Soul snarls, fixing his eyes to the tree with a glare, slapping away the limbs from his face, and dropping down to slip on the gloves. With one fleeting kiss to the Scythe, he hands it over. "And guard this too, since you offered."_

" _It touches my dead heart to know love and tenderness still exist, despite my mistakes," Lord Death broods. Obligingly, the Master Scythe sinks into the tree trunk like it's being swallowed. Watching it disappear is another painful jolt for Soul- he's always thought of it as Maka's scythe, and giving it up feels a lot like giving her up by extension, especially considering what he's planning to do next..._

" _Keep it safe… and keep Maka safe until she wakes up," Soul orders again for good measure. He's the new King after all, and he'll assign tasks to this God and any other he crosses paths with as he pleases. The Great Deku Tree's offers a twiggy limb to seal deal with a pinky promise, and then salutes Soul as he begins the journey toward the castle, heading straight to his –_

X


	2. the middle

\- death. It crawls the land, claiming it. Though Maka remembers little snippets of the devastation, this is not the world she left behind a hundred years ago.

The paraglider serves her, aids her. Her search is punctuated by climbs and glides and long marches through the waste that is left of what had once been teeming with life, a vitality she misses dearly. There is still life, though, still a familiar light, but it struggles amidst the darkness, struggles against Kishin and madness.

The dying landscape marks her failure. Maka knows this as surely as she knows anything in this strange, hazy existence.

Days go by and confusion still drowns Maka. The fighting is endless, and her hands chaffe after countless hours holding her rough forged scythe, her trusty weapon that never feels quite right in her hands. There is a feeling of something missing, too, of gloves long lost that she longs to wear again. Or maybe she just longs to see the one who had gifted them. So she fights, to remember, to reclaim, to take back all long lost.

Her life is searching and battling and listening to the whispers of those who cower in the villages in fear. She learns in bits and must put the pieces of the past together. Travelers are few, the roads empty and barren because travel equals death and the desire to live remains strong, so people stay put, safe and hidden. Their will to live drives Maka. Their fear is her failure, this she knows too well, and until she can make it right, until she can reclaim the beasts and face the darkness, this horror and misery will continue to haunt her.

Months into her journey finally reveals her first stop: the Zoras' domain. It stays with Maka long after she leaves. The Zora who finds her wandering in their territory greets her amidst shining waters. "You must come see the King, my cousin," Tsugumi pleads, the shine of her purple scales nearly blinding in the waters below. "He would want to see you, a Shibusenian, a hero. You must be the one."

Its been a difficult journey, thick with Kishin, and the Zora princess looks on in awe, leading ever forward down the watery path. Yet Maka still receives a cold greeting from the sea people. A King, who views her from his high dais with disdain as she stands on a little slab of stone surrounded by the water, spits on her.

"You would come here after what you did? After you failed to protect our princess from harm? You dare come here in your shame?" King Masamune of the Zora stands tall, black scales shimmering menace. The waters roil around Maka with his wrath, slapping at the edges of her small island.

"What princess?" Confusion seems to be Maka's default. She can only be honest, and what he speaks of,  _who_  he speaks of, is lost to her, buried in a century of hazy memories that she still can't quite fully touch.

"You- _you_ , of anyone, of all, how dare you deny Tsubaki, the hero who claimed Vah Ruta, one of the Great Champions? You, who led her to her end?"

"I-don't remember," Maka says softly, ashamed.

The words echo, cutting deep into her regretful heart, as Masamune looms. He leaps from his dais above, grabbing her roughly. Maka bites down a plea for mercy.

"How could you forget her? She died for-"

X

" _-you." The voice is soft, hesitant. "I'd die for you, I really would."_

_Walking to clear his head, lost in the winding paths of this place, Soul finds them and eavesdrops since they don't see him from the path below. It's been a year since Wes died and he and Maka are only now successfully recruiting their first Champion. Maka's golden hair shines in the setting sun, the Zora princess practically glowing next to her, ethereal in the slowly dying light._

" _I don't want anyone to die." Honest, his knight is always, always honest. "But I know we might. I might, and you might. Only the prince matters. He's the one you must be willing to die for."_

" _Then I will die for you both if that is my fate." Familiar is that disappointment the princess swallows down, that slight tremor in her melodic voice. Soul has felt it. He's caused it._

_The princess' words are the latest burden, his newest sin._

_He's never wanted that, but he knows he cannot change fate... Railing against it, hating it, hating the way it twists in his heart and in his soul, it won't change it._

_Blood will be on his hands, in his soul, and he is still powerless. They will die for nothing. Even the Zora princess -_

X

"... Tsubaki," Maka breathes, memory cutting into her with razor sharp clarity. "She was strong. She chose to do what she must, we all did."

The affection that had shone in her eyes haunts her. Tsubaki had followed her, but Maka had followed another.

"And yet, you live." Quiet anger seethes as the king steps back, the burst of rage stifled but simmering. "You don't belong here." The voice is as sharp as the memory.

"I'm here to take back Vah Ruta."

"It's the least you might do after your shame. I won't prevent it-but you are not welcome in my palace. Go from this place. Tsugumi will guide you to the beast."

The fact that the King will not hinder her quest must be enough. His anger burning her back as she goes feels justified. She had failed Tsubaki. To be here, to be -

X

_\- alone with her for a year and a half now. Soul wonders when the word turned into such a lovely thought. Beside him, Maka sighs in her sleep, toes wiggling, rolling closer to him. It's moments like these that sheer terror steals his breath. He prays: 'Please don't let me -_

X

\- fail. Every single one of them, she has failed all of them! It's happening again. This battle to tame the Divine Beast will not only end Maka, but another Zora. Not even a week after facing the Zora King and Maka has already lead another of his family members toward their death -

Vah Ruta hurls ice shard after ice shard, blind rage potent. The enormous, mechanical stag gathers the waters, gathers power. The lightning arrows so hard won are not enough and she is not enough to protect Tsugumi, cowering behind the rocks on the shore. Another Zora princess who will fall by her failure.

But she cannot,  _must_  not fail. Maka owes Tsubaki too much, owes the world too much, owes Soul too much.

' _Fight, Maka! Duck, ATTACK!'_

Standing tall, bow taut, she looses the arrow straight and true. If she dies, it's over. The voice whispers she will not, not this time, and she believes it.

The arrow sinks into the blackened shard that rests in the forehead of the beast, and the world-

X

_\- tilts._

_Asura has risen. The castle is on fire. The world is on fire. Tsubaki's soul is on fire. The knight she had vowed to follow is deep in the woods, but the prince she had vowed to protect remains, and so does the king who claimed her heart._

_Tsubaki will defend them both, defend them all. Champion. Zora. Tamer of Vah Ruta. But control slips through her fingers as the dark power courses through her beast, forcing, claiming._

_Asura has risen, and they're all dying…_

_Control slips, and she is captive, prisoner of her own power as the beast rages. It swoops to the castle grounds below, seeking, and the King runs towards her, arms wide, hailing his savior, embracing the death he cannot see or know stalks him._

_Ice, cold, merciless - that's what she's becoming. Tsubaki aims at Wes, at the spot just above his heart. A fatal shot, surely, and she internally screams at herself to stop but her limbs aren't hers anymore. He staggers back with the impact, betrayal in his brown eyes, staggering back into the castle…_

_Her King. Her beloved. Tsubaki can only watch, can only mourn as the dark power consumes her. She will join him in death soon-_

X

-enough. Maka has seen enough. The memory slices through her, sharp. Unrelenting. Merciless.

Tsubaki.  _Tsubaki_.

The shard above her shatters, falls, reforms into a creature of water and darkness, blue eyes glowing with menace, and Maka is frozen, helpless, trapped in pain and memory.

' _Fight_.' The voice of always is joined by a new voice, a new presence. ' _You must.'_

She must.

Reflex, training, muscle memory, it works past a mind numb with pain and she looses another shock arrow at the oncoming darkness. The creature howls as it strikes, and Maka rolls to the side to avoid a wicked spike of ice, scrambling to her feet and trading bow for scythe.

The rage that radiates from the creature shrieks only one thing in her mind.

_Die_.

But the voices insist  _live_. ' _Fight_!' Voices she trusts. Voices she loves. So she fights.

The Zora princess Tsugumi also fights, spirit of her cousin Tsubaki bright within her as she hurls her spear, striking true. The creature turns towards her in its rage, and Maka has her chance, leaping forward with her scythe.

It's over in a single blow and the creature dissolves in a bellow of purest hate, darkness streaming up into the twilight towards Shibusen.

Where it stood, now stands Tsubaki, translucent and radiant. Maka does not deserve the affectionate smile, nor does she deserve her gratitude.

"I am free, thank you. When the time comes, we will fight together once more."

The image fades, but the beast moves, bounding away up the hillside to stand sentry until the time is -

X

- _so fast moving, Soul feels precious minutes slipping through his fingers like sand. Two years have trudged by since his parents died, since he left home, and he's still lacking. Still useless. Life pendulums between continual futile pilgrimages to temples and struggling to awaken the power within him that could mean life or death for the entire kingdom._

_And then there's the jealousy of Maka, that she was able to master her scythe so easily, that she's capable and intelligent and beats him at everything, especially arm wrestling and maintaining eye contact when they catch each other staring. Actually, another feeling for her is blooming beside that envy. A softness, a fondness, an… ache. One that throbs -_

X

\- like a drum. A couple more weeks after taming the Stag, something doesn't feel right at all as Maka makes her way up the narrow ramp in the sky that is part of the Rito domain. She calms her heart, thinking of retreating, and that's when she sees it, stalking the skies like the bird of prey it represents.

"Vah Medoh." The Rito, who now stands beside her, shades her eyes with a glossy, feathered wing the color of flame. "It stalks us with the blind rage of Asura, grounds us. I'm going to destroy it."

"And meet the fate of your uncle, Zjarr? Of your brother?"

Dark brown feathers greet her vision as she turns, and the face that meets her is haggard, worn with age. Familiar. Dark eyes widen.

" _You_."

Maka knows those eyes, even if the color might be different, even if the defeat they reflect is less familiar.

"No, Father. Brother will recover, and Uncle I will avenge."

A streak of red stalks past.

"We will fly again." Golden eyes flash the determination that her father's had so clearly lacked. "I will defeat-"

X

" _\- the beast," Kid says, voice strong, unwavering, "is my birthright." His eyes glow a burnished gold, startling amidst jet black feathers. "I will tame it, even if I must bare this journey and the tasteless asymmetry of such a place to do it."_

_They walk the streets of a small town on the outskirts of Rito territory near where the beast lies dormant. It is a small, dingy town on the frontier, inhabited only by those with the grit to stray so far from the protections of civilization, those who would brave the wilds._

_Fifteen year old Soul would rather avoid another rant about symmetry from their new companion, who has made it clear how thoroughly he disdains their company, so he excuses himself to find a food vendor, Maka following. Kid continues on to find a bowyer, the need to tend journey battered weapons pressing._

_Such stolen moments are precious, and Soul basks in the smile that warms him, even as he would rail against it. The soft 'thank you' is equally precious as Maka takes warm bread from his hands and they make their way after their Rito companion._

" _I wouldn't."_

_It's unexpected, his voice echoing from an alley as they pass. Calm, as always, but cutting and precise. They hurry to the sound, and Kid stands with his back to a wall, two tall figures with flaming red hair before him, sharp glaives gleaming as they hold them only inches from his chest._

" _Like hell," the taller redhead scoffs, and though her face isn't visible with her back to them, her posture, relaxed, radiates confidence. Experience. "Pay or die, simple as that."_

_The other one chirps: "Yeah, pay or die, like Sissy said!"_

_Next to Soul, Maka is a coiled spring ready to pounce, but she never gets the chance._

" _If rupees are all you seek, take them." Kid tosses a bag from his belt to his feet, the tinkling of the gems within ringing in sheer contempt._

_There's something, an instinct, that flashes in his mind. Soul can feel it, the beckoning of fate, and he wants to reject it, to ignore it, to choose just once, but he can't, he can't. This meeting was inevitable. The flaming hair and height of the attackers mark them as Gerudo, and in his heart, he knows they are the ones they would seek next._

" _Don't you want more?"_

_With swift movement and livid green eyes, Maka stands in front of Soul, scythe bared as Kid pulls crossbows, glaives sharp and ready._

" _Talk." There is curiosity behind the anger._

_Fate. This is fate._

_So he-_

X

"-does finally see me as worthy?" Maka pulls the umpteenth arrow from a nearby tree, apple perfectly pinned to the bark. The fruit is sweet as she steals a bite, hunger getting the best of her.

"No." Stern golden eyes amidst red feathers quickly crinkle in a smile, their light dazzling in the afternoon sun. "But I guess you'll have to do."

Kilik's pleas replay in her mind as he'd confronted her just two days ago, dark eyes brimming with fear, sorrow, defeat. " _I know who you are. Please, don't let the beast take her like it took my brother. Torden was lucky to survive the first attempt, but my children are stubborn. Keep her safe_."

A nod is all she had offered, unwilling to lie when her future is as hazy as much of her past. If it is within her power, then Zjarr will live. Maka hopes desperately it is within her power, but such hopes have too often disappointed her.

Remembering the battle for Vah Naboris, her struggle, her failure, Maka can only hope this one goes more smoothly than the last -

X

-fight. She has to fight, keep fighting.

' _Don't die, don't die, don't die.'_

The mantra plays in Maka's head, the voice hers - and not hers.

Kim keeps the lightening at bay, but it will mean nothing if she can't take out the feet of the beast, the bomb arrows heavy, unwieldy.

Only four left, only one leg hit…. Maka can do anything she sets her mind to. She takes the shot and it hits, but there isn't time to celebrate as she rolls away from the debris of the blast. Straying from Kim's protection is a death sentence, but not straying is impossible if she wants to win.

"I thought you could shoot, Shibusian." The Gerudo captain looks down on her with disdain as she reaches down a hand to help Maka up, pink hair wild from the fight, green eyes narrowed in determination.

"I think I could, once."

"Learn. Learn or we-"

X

" _\- fail! You'll fail, we'll all fail if you aren't a better shot."_

_The Rito crosses black feathered arms over his chest, golden eyes thoughtful._

_Soul had always thought her shooting was fine, much better than he could ever do. Watching Kid shoot tells him he'd been wrong. The thought Maka is anything less-than at anything feels wrong. Her strength awes him each day; how can it be less-than?_

" _He's right. You shoot like an amature. All power, no precision." Liz leans against a nearby tree, arms similarly crossed. She's guarded, as always. "Better learn fast. Monsters ain't gonna kill themselves."_

" _You should listen to Sissy." A second Gerudo hangs down from the tree next to her sister, upside down, red hair a curtain around a cherubic face. "I've seen Gorom who are better shots." The crunch of the apple punctuates the comment as she takes a second bite._

" _They aren't wrong." Tsubaki's voice is serene as she breaks her meditation, one eye cracked open, her balance impressive as she sits crisscrossed on a narrow bolder._

_Maka huffs in frustration, but her own determination shows in the set of her jaw and the steel in her spine, and Soul wishes he had even a fraction of that fire in his soul._

_It feels good to be together like this. It feels unreal. Each time they're all together, a voice in Soul's head reminds him that they're on borrowed time, that Death lurks everywhere._

" _Fine." Maka pulls out her arrow, inches from center target. "Teach-"_

X

"-me. You have to listen to me!"

The Gerudo screams as she hauls her up from under her arms. The last blast had missed, had been too close. Her ears ring, and she can feel the blood matting her hair. Far, far too close.

"You've got one shot left," Kim screams. The battles rages on. Maka still lives, she still has a chance… "One! You miss, we die, so get it the hell together and don't miss."

One leg, one shot. This what Maka must do to take the massive mechanical camel down. The lightning blasts keep getting closer; the shield is failing.

One. Shot.

Kid's words from a century ago ring in her ears where sound cannot reach: ' _Focus. You must focus.'_

Wobbly, shaken, she stands, bow trained, and counts the seconds as the enemy rampages. She waits.

' _Choose your shot, don't let it choose you.'_

There is another voice, closer, current. Her past, but also her present, and maybe her future.  _Soul._

' _You've got this.'_

Maka is not so sure, but she chooses her shot, loosens her arrow. It flies. It strikes, but not its target, hitting the ground near, useless.

Kim's scream of anguish echoes in her aching ears.

She has seconds. She cannot, must not fail.

Leap, run. The arrow is in her hand, then it's in the leg of the beast as lightning crashes behind her back. She jumps away, rolls away, covers her ears against the blast. The world quakes, her body with it, but she wills herself to stand on wobbly legs, caked in dirt and in blood.

Farmer scythe in hand, Maka marches forward, steadying herself as she goes. It's silly, the thought that invades her tired mind, the wish for gloves long lost to protect charred and aching hands. She may not have gloves, but she has  _him_. As always, with her is a will both hers and not, supporting, bolstering, strengthening.

' _Go_.'

Strength, will, it takes both to push, to run, to leap. Atop the felled beast, hamstrung, she swings down her scythe, swings at the shard imbedded in its back atop one hump, swings and strikes true.

She'd always been best with a-

X

" _-Scythe! We need the damn scythe! God, why did Maka have to leave and play in the forest tonight, of all nights?"_

_Liz's voice is a shriek in both their ears. The castle is on fire. The world is on fire. Time is running out._

" _She's gone, Sissy! We have to hold it off until she's back, until she can-"_

" _King Wes!" Liz shouts, and both sisters watch in horror. Even from across the courtyard, they can tell the ice is fatal if it hits Wes. "Tsubaki, what-why-!"_

_The sense of betrayal runs sharp, deep. Their friend. Tsubaki had been their friend. Trust. Foolish to trust, so foolish._

" _Why?" Patti looks at her, blue eyes wide._

_When the dark power hits, they both know._

" _Patti!"_

_It's too much, it's too damn much. And as the power takes her, she knows that even if Maka were to arrive here and now, it would still be too-_

X

\- late. Maka is always  _always_  too late. Running to where the Gerudo has fallen to dark lightening, she kneels. Kim is smeared in ash, rivulets of blood darkening pink hair to the red of many of her sisters', darkening her skin, maring her aloof perfection. Her eyes are closed, her face a mask of pain.

The horror is gone, fled to its dark master, but at what cost?

Maka sucks in the breath to scream, but it comes out in a gasp. The Gerudo's chest yet rises, yet lowers faintly.

"She's gonna make it, Maka. Promise."

The voice is new and familiar all at once. Maka raises tired eyes to the two spectral images who stand over her, shimmering beneath the high desert sun. Her face splits in a sad, tired smile for comrades she hasn't seen in so long.

"I'm sorry." It's all she knows to say. She had failed them and she wishes she could do it again, make it right, but she can't change the past. There is only the future.

"Don't." Liz looks serene where she stands, as radiant in death as in life. "You did everything you knew to do back then. We all did. Now, you did what we couldn't and freed us, and in turn, we'll be there to help how we can."

"You're a good egg, Maka. Always were." Patti's grin in death is as broad as it ever was in life. Then both are gone and the beast bounds away, off to the highest point in the desert to wait.

There's no time to mourn or contemplate as she scoops up the battered, broken body before her to return to Gerudo town.

Time grows shorter even as the days grow longer and there's still so much -

X

-to do. She knows what she must do, how she must do it, but fear claws at her lungs. Kim had nearly died when Maka used bomb arrows last, she herself had nearly died, and failure is impossible. To fail is to condemn them all, to condemn Soul, and she cannot, must not.

The image of the Gerudo captain, pale and comatose as she left, swims in her mind.

_Focus,_ the voice within implores. There is reassurance in the word along with concern. Soul's voice never chides, only supports. Has he changed so much?

Zjarr stands tall beside her, the crest of the cliff that will bring them to Vah Naboris before them. The lessons of Kid and his niece simmer within her, and Maka wills her bow as true as her scythe.

They must loose the arrows quickly and precisely, each of them. The shield will destroy any chance if they don't, and they will have little time, defense so high against such a foe impossible, at least for her. Zjarr might fare better, but with no way to get past the shield, her efforts would prove costly and futile and nothing must be done in vain.

This time, there will be no running with her scythe to fix her blunders. This time, there can be no mistake.

Meeting the familiar golden eyes of her Rito companion, they stride forward and both take quick aim as their target rushes, shadow looming from the sky.

A beat, then two, breath caught as she watches and waits and watches both arrows strikes its mark, exploding in a dazzling flash of sound and light.

Neither time nor will to celebrate, another arrow is already knocked, ready, but Maka must be patient, must be the snake who strikes only when she can hit the mark. Wait.  _Wait_. The wait feels endless, every precious second an eternity, and then, she sees her opening, and then, the arrow flies.

Another arrow flies beside it, more sound and light and the shield is down. A third arrow flies from her companion, the twang of the bow loud in sensitive ears as she watches, watches, watches the arrow fly for the dark shard in the left eye of Vah Medoh.

Satisfaction washes over her as the shard shatters but it's short lived, as it must be.

It's not over -

X

_\- yet. Kid isn't ready to die. Not now, not yet._

_The chaos that surrounds him, that destroys the lovely symmetry of Shibusen castle, that claims the lives of innocents below in silent screams of agony he cannot hear, but that echo through his core nonetheless, will surely claim him soon enough._

_Fight. He must fight. Rito champion, master of Vah Medoh, how can it end this way?_

_The dark energy, he'd seen it. Watched it claim Vah Ruta and Vah Naboris both._

_How can it end this way?_

_When the dark energy comes to claim him, he fights, fights with everything he is, was, and will be. He fights knowing it will not, cannot be enough, because he is Rito and he is a champion and he refuses to do otherwise._

_His real regret is to have let down the people he now calls friend._

_No, Kid isn't ready to die, but as the pain takes him, he feels grateful that at least, with comrades at his side, he had truly -_

X

-lived. Maka is so grateful that Zjarr lives, whole and untouched. She throws herself at the Rito warrior in a crushing hug, her relief seeping out in an embrace of sore muscles and unshed tears.

The wind creature had been difficult, had blown Zjarr from the cliff in a gust of unbridled hatred, and for the briefest instant, Maka had forgotten that Rito  _fly_  and her heart had shattered. Too much loss, one too many, too much failure.

' _Fight. It isn't over. FIGHT_!'

Even  _he_  could not staunch the flow. It had been too much. There had been far too much. Frozen, paralyzed, she'd waited to die.

Then the red warrior had risen like a phoenix above the cliffside, feathers blazing and glorious in the afternoon light, had loosed an arrow of ice upon the creature of wind and hate, and Maka's heart started again and her fury was reborn in muscle memory and her feet flew and her arms swung and her scythe sliced and the creature howled.

Blind rage and death was in its wail as the darkness streaked off towards Shibusen.

And now she stands and lets the tears fall as she holds the niece of her long fallen comrade, only a few, silent and precious, swiping them with a hand before the young Rito can see.

"It's not wrong to show your heart."

Though Maka knows, has come to know that her friends' souls will find freedom with the defeat of each beast, Zjarr jumps back, startled, bow taut and ready.

A gasp, and she falls to her knees as the image of Kid shimmers before them both.

"Uncle."

"You must be proud, to have become such a warrior." Kid's voice rings clear. "And you." His eyes turn to Maka. "Thank you. For keeping her safe, for my freedom, but most of all, for being my friend, then and now. I'll be waiting."

The image fades and Vah Medoh flies towards the sun to circle and -

X

\- wait. The worst part, far worse than the journey, interminable, through dark and winding tunnels, has been the wait.

Months have come and gone since rescuing Kid, Liz, and Patti's ghosts. Maka's patience wears as she watches Nygus, broad back hunched as she works. The bandages she wears around her arms, leg, and head cover dark, hard skin that barely peeks out from underneath, and for a moment, Maka finds herself mesmerized by the contrast.

She hadn't expected that volunteering to retrieve Nygus from the mines would mean helping her delve further into the tunnels to find the rare moss they need, nor that said moss would be so excruciatingly slow to extract, yet here they are.

Sid needs the moss for his pain. The city needs Sid to fire the canon and fend off Vah Rudania, lest they all drown in liquid fire. Maka needs the canon to stun the beast for a chance to stop it for good.

There is a chain of intent ending here and now. Running calloused hands on rough stone, she thinks of lost gloves and brown eyes burnished red and her heart is too full, so she thinks on the here and now instead.

The vision of Goron City as it had glowed beneath the high bridge burns in her mind, burns in her heart. He had been there, too, the first time, the briefest wisp of memory haunting-

X

_\- her, stride strong, though Soul knows her feet hurt. Travel through the mountains has been difficult, and he, Maka, and their new friends and Champions are all exhausted._

_And now, there's the heat. Stifling, intense. The Goron make their home amidst a live volcano, their city resting on an island surrounded by liquid hot magma. For them, so he's told, the heat matters little. For those not Goron it's oppressive, even with the resistance potions they're guzzling like water._

_The group stops on the middle of a high bridge over the city to take in the dizzying sight, the glowing red of the lava below painting everything with a red hue._

_Stopping next to her, he looks down and quickly up, the sight making him queasy, even as Maka leans even farther forward._

" _It's lovely, in its own way." Her voice is hushed. "Everything is, the whole world. It's why we have to protect it."_

_She's lovely in the ethereal red glow; she's lovely in her strength; she's lovely down to the soul._

_Soul's chance to answer is stolen as he hears a deafening, "Yahoooooooo!"_

_The bridge shudders as a massive figure lands hard from somewhere above. The Goron strikes a pose that is probably meant to look heroic but comes off as ridiculous, blue hair stark in the red glow._

" _Greetings, peons! What brings you to the realm of the great Black*Star?"_

_They all stand, stunned for a moment, then Liz cocks one hand on a hip and says, "We're going to Nunya." From next to her sister, Patti stuffs one hand in her mouth to stifle a giggle._

_The gigantic Goron looks confused, blinking at her. "Where's… Nunya?"_

_Patti jumps forward and shouts, "Nunya business, fool!"_

" _A comedian. Well, I guess I can always use a court jester!" Black*Star bellows a laugh at his own joke, his deep voice vibrating through the canyon. He swipes a tear from his eye and looks them over. "But I'm thinking you're going to the mines. And I'm thinking you could use a God like me to show you the ropes, group of lowlanders like yourselves. Don't even have to pay me, my gift to you is my godly generosity."_

_The feeling is back. Fate, his cruel and fickle mistress, rides Soul hard. The Fate who had tied his heart to a knight who could not love him, who had set them on a path where he could not help but to love her, now sets this Goron before them, and Soul knows, and he wants to refuse as he always does, but resignation sets in, bitter and unpleasant and so, so necessary._

" _Don't need ya, now scram." Liz's patience has clearly worn thin._

" _The shrine." All eyes turn Soul's way and he ignores Maka's raised eyebrows, Liz's audible scoff, as he continues: "And yes, we could use a-"_

X

\- guide. But even if Nygus is only supposed be a guide, the large, wicked drillshaft she wields suggests more.

"We're close?" she asks, heat and exhaustion wearing.

"Very," Nygus agrees, and there is concern in her dark eyes. "What's the plan?"

"Wish I knew." There is no plan, not really, not one she's sure will work. It's the last beast, the  _last_ , but the moss has failed and Sid can't wield the canon, so she's here because she must be, but she  _doesn't know what to do._

The current plan is ice arrows and pray.

"Well, if you've a mind for help, I might have an idea."

Fate has given her a straw to grasp so she takes it. "What's your plan?"

Nygus doesn't hesitate to explain, and as Maka listens, she thinks it really might work. Ice arrows to herd it into the volcano, preying on forced immobility.

"And it's just over the rise?" She has a plan. It's time.

"It is," the Goron elder confirms, "but if you think I'm about to let a Shibusian go off to fight our battle for us alone, you best think again. I'll be helping you."

The wash of relief with fear is disconcerting. Maka would rather not risk another life, not again, but she knows her chances are better if she doesn't face this alone. If there's one thing she's learned, then and now, it's the importance of relying on others. She's never been able to do it all alone.

"Okay," Maka says.

Nygus looks surprised, eyes widening for a moment before her jaw sets, and she nods. "Okay."

The battle is fire and ice and treacherous on the edge of the volcano, but somehow, luck and fate are with them as they fight and they herd the beast into the volcano.

Rage flares, the lava boils, and Maka must strike quickly.

The leap from volcano to beast is foolhardy. Soul shrieks in her mind: _'Maka, don't!'_

This time, she ignores him. Better to die in the leap than to die because she fears to do what she must. Landing hard on the back of the beast, Maka falls to one knee from the force of the impact.

Ignoring scorching heat and sizzling fear, she runs up the creature's tail, farmer's scythe in hand, and swings at the crystal that rests at the tip. Once. Twice. She precariously balances on the thrashing appendage. Her third strike sounds a defending crack, a loud hiss, and the crystal explodes, releasing a column of living flame.

Heat scorched and sweat drenched, Maka faces the last of the dark creatures who had possessed the beasts so long ago, the last piece of Asura's fragmented soul that must be destroyed.

She can do -

X

_-this... isn't how he's meant to die. He'd wanted a dramatic fight, sure, but it's supposed to be a fight he wins with unparalleled flourish and courage before dying from his wounds. There is supposed to be parades and flowers and statues. Black*Star has always wanted a statue. He definitely isn't supposed to die alone in the middle of the chaos at Shibusen Castle._

_Fire rages around him, but he is a Goron warrior, the one who will surpass the gods, and it cannot touch him. He'd seen the dark energy take his friends and he knows he's next._

_Black*Star refuses to let his best, his closest minions die in vain, the people who had believed him when he's said he was SOMEBODY. The people who never cared about his disgraced clan, his dark birthright. Fitting that one whose father had become Yiga should be the one to strike a blow._

_Shrieking a last "Yahoo!" as the dark power comes to claim him, he steers his beast towards Asura, crashing into him as his world is engulfed in darkness and-_

X

-flame is her world, flame and death as she faces the menace, faces its heat and its wrath.

And though Nygus is trapped on the volcano's lip, Maka is not alone, she's never alone. As she stands and pants and avoids another burst of flame, nearly losing her footing to fall to a fiery death below, his strength courses through her.

' _Just a little more.'_

Yes, she knows. It's always just a little more, and she's so so weary, but she must fight or die. Always, Maka chooses to fight.

A spin, then Maka dances back. It's too close for her bow, and she's  _tired_ , but the ice makes it howl, so Maka grabs an arrow, leaping forth as she clutches it in one hand and aims for one of the black eyes that shine darkly from the flame. Her hand burns, it freezes, it  _burns_  when she buries the arrow deep with her bare fist, silently wishing for gloves long lost.

' _End it,'_ he implores.

_Or it ends me,_ she thinks, and the small mental chuckle is tired and mirthless.

Using her free hand, scorched and exhausted, she takes up her scythe, awkward and unbalanced without a second hand to steady it, and strikes, stepping back and slicing clean into the back of the head. It howls longer, louder as she leaves the arrow in place and takes up the scythe two handed to swipe down, clefting it in twain.

The explosion is sudden and dazzling and she scrambles backwards to avoid it, rests on scorched knees as she watches the remains burst into the sky in hot rage as it streaks back to Shibusen.

"It's over," she whispers to the sky.

"Not even close." His gruff voice startles her to her feet, and he stands as large in death as he was in like. Maka thinks he must enjoy how he shimmers in the harsh red light of the volcano.

"Black*Star." A smile stretches, bittersweet, at seeing the last of her old friends freed.

"The one and only! Hey Aunt Ny!" He waves past her and she can hear Nygus gasp, turns her head to see her cover her mouth with a hand.

"Anyyyyways," he draws it out in clear impatience. "Thanks for freeing your god from a century of fiery torment, yadda yadda, something, whatever, but you know you still got more to do."

A long sigh. "I know. There's  _always_ more to do."

"That isn't the Master Scythe." He gestures with one meaty, translucent hand. "I'd say it's time to go reclaim your birthright or whatever the fuck, and me an' Vah Rudania here'll be there when it's time."

Maka nods, affection and nostalgia and grief overwhelming as she faces him. "They built you a statue, you know," she says and his grin makes her smile.

"Fuck yeah they did!" He raises his fist in triumph and with a loud, "Yahoo!" sinks down into Vah Rudania. Black*Star is able to move his beast where the fragment of Asura could not, and he shifts the beast to the side, allowing Maka to step back to the safety of the volcano ledge before bounding away.

Nygus places a hand on her arm as they watch him go, ignoring the scorching flame that cooks her skin.

Her thoughts drift to a forest hidden within a forest far away, a place where she once walked with Soul, a place where she knows her scythe waits patiently for -

X


	3. the end

"... My return. Was it really necessary to hide it so  _thoroughly?_ " She speaks to nothing and no one, to herself, to  _him_. Sometimes Soul is hard to hear, and she worries their resonance link is fading. "I'm the only one who can use it, and I'm not convinced I'll even  _find_  it at this rate."

Silence is the only response, though a vaguely sheepish feeling sweeps through her. She must have imagined it; Maka has been in this gods forsaken forest for far too long.

The place is a maze within a maze. Just finding the aptly named Lost Woods had been a journey; traveling through it had been the stuff of Kishin-filled nightmares. Now she has reached Karok Forest, the heart of this dark, endless place. Or she thinks she has. It isn't as if there's a sign pointing the way, but Maka had walked the path remembered and she hasn't been attacked by a Kishin in a a good while, so she must be close.

Dappled sunlight bathes her through the shadow as she reaches yet another clearing. Each time before, her heart had swelled only to fall, but she's ceased hoping.

In the center of the clearing stands a large tree, odd, dark, gnarled. Maka glares at it. Ugh, another dead end, another empty clearing.

If only memory had told her where to find the scythe, not just the wood.

' _Go to the Karok Forest within the Lost Woods. Find the hidden path, the steps we walked before.'_

Soul's voice in her head rankles where it might normally soothe.

"There's nothing  _here!"_

She shouts it to the ether and her voice is lost among the trees.

"Excuse me?" A high voice answers, and her scythe is in hand in an instant.

"Show yourself!" she commands, scanning the trees on the other side of the clearing in the direction she'd heard the voice.

"Rude, to make demands of a God. I only listen to Soul because he's your squeeze - I mean king." There's a thoughtful little hum. "Though, I guess you have a right to be cranky after sleeping for a hundred years. And anyway, it's not like I can be choosy with my company these days. You're the first visitor I've had in years if you don't count the squirrels."

"Wait, you know Soul?" Her guard remains, even through a light blush at his strange words. Knowing Soul doesn't mean this is a friend.

"Of course, he's the last person I talked to. You were with him. Sort of."

"Who are you?  _Where_  are you?" Because why would an ally hide amidst the shadows of this shadowed place?

"I'm right in front of your face, do you lack eyes?" Across the clearing, a branch shakes in the odd tree.

Maka jumps back in surprise. Blinks. Lowers her scythe the tiniest bit.

"You're… a tree?"

"Not blind, then. Daft. Also, your boy said the same thing, hehe! Anyway, yes, yes, hello hello, legendary hero of the scythe, I am the Great Deku Tree! Welcome, welcome, have a seat, take a load off, let's chat!"

"I - you want to chat?" Another blink.

He might have told her this would involve an obnoxious talking  _tree_.

' _It's a prick. I thought you were better off not knowing that part.'_

" _You're_  a prick," she says to the air.

"Well, you  _are_  rude, aren't you. Tsk!" The tree actually sounds affronted as it shakes a branch her way. "Just for that, maybe I won't give you the Master Scythe after all."

"Wait,  _you_ have my scythe?" Maka takes two steps closer. She's here. It's  _here_! Finally.

"Well, I wouldn't call a weapon millennia old and forged from the combined essences of several gods  _yours_ , per say, but yep!" It sounds almost chipper at the revelation. "And, might I add, it took you long enough to come back for it. I'm not sure I should give it to you, rudeness aside." The tree sniffs, though how an entity with no tongue can talk, let alone sniff, is beyond her. "You couldn't have wanted it all that badly to come here last."

"I couldn't have-" fists tighten around her current weapon, a pale imitation of what she seeks. "I… couldn't have? Do you know what it took to get here? To come this far? You, you  _you_!" Step step step, scythe bared. "Stupid tree!"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" The tree crosses two large limbs in front of itself. "Hold on there with the temper tantrum! I didn't say I wouldn't give it to you, just that I don't know if I  _should_. I already told you that I listen to King Sweetie and he told me to give it to you, even if he didn't mention you're rude and have a temper, so here it is."

There is a creaking rustle as layer upon layer of bark and wood fold gently back until her scythe is revealed, polished and whole in the heart of the tree. It glows faintly in the soft, dappled light as it emerges to rest on the reformed face of the tree.

"Go on, take it."

Maka doesn't hesitate. Her current scythe, long companion though it's been, drops to the forest floor and she steps forward with eager steps, reaches out a hand, and takes up her rightful scythe.

And then there's  _pain_. Unending, unyielding pain, coursing through her head, her heart, her very soul. Maka drops to her knees in a wordless scream, clutching the scythe all the tighter. She's dying-she's  _dying_. Not again, not when she's so close, not when he needs her so much, please,  _please_.

"Oh, yeah," the high voice echoes through her pain. "Probably should have warned you that it'll kill you if you're still too weak from that hundred year sleep and all. My bad."

_That damned tree_. She can't die, not now. She has to survive to cut that smug birdbrain of a tree in half.

"I also proooobably should have told you I never give anything up without a challenge, a test of worth, if you will. In my nature and all that. Good luck!"

The snarl is all the warning she gets and instinct and muscle memory take over even through the pain as she rolls to one side and scrambles to a crouch, narrowly avoiding a flurry of teeth and claws. The thing is dark, shadowy, wrong. A Kishin - and not a weak one.

Pain courses through her and she wants to collapse, give up, let the Kishin take her soul, but she can't, she  _can't_.

' _Stand. Fight. You can't die, not again,_ _ **please**_ _.'_

His guilt washes through her, staggering, and she won't let Soul live with that, won't fail him, won't fail herself.

Standing through the pain, her lifeforce ebbs mercilessly with each passing second. She doesn't have long. She'll have to drop the scythe if she even can, and when she does, she'll die, and if she doesn't, she'll die.

Maka refuses to die. Not yet.

The thing charges her and she springs to her feet, teeth grit through the pain, and swings her weapon in a wide, vicious arc.

Ichor flies, spattering her, the tree, everything as the scythe blade slices clean through the Kishin's neck and it collapses in front of her in a heap.

As quickly as it had come, the pain is gone, and scythe in hand, she feels right, she feels  _whole_.

"Bravo! Bravooo!" Tree limbs shake in what must be some arboreal version of applause. "Nicely done, my queen, nicely done indeed! The scythe is yours-you've certainly earned it! Though may I say." Another of those odd sniffs. "You might have been just a touch  _neater_."

Now that she's not dying, Maka has room for anger. She stalks up to the tree, putting a finger to what she now recognizes as a skull like face in the bark.

"Now listen here! This was already my scythe and yes, sometimes fights get messy. You wanted to challenge me, so you got what you gave. Oh, and I'm a knight, not a queen, get your facts straight. You really are-"

"But you're going to marry a kiiiiing, aren't you?" The tree sing songs and Maka steps back in disbelief, face going scarlet. "That would make you a  _queen_ ," it continues, unrelenting. "King Soul and Queen Maka sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-"

"Oh come off it already!" She bares her scythe, stomps her foot. "You really are a prick. What  _are_  you anyway?"

"That's Lord Prick to you. Or Lord Death. Take your pick."

"You're-"

"Lord Death - or what's left - yep!"

"And you are-"

"The one who gave Asura his power." This is more solemn. "And you're the one who is going to help fix my mistake. Had to make sure you could do it, you understand how it goes."

A long sigh escapes her, she's just so  _tired,_ and it's far from over. Her gaze strays to the canopy of leaves up ahead, taking in the dappled light, and she wonders how much longer she'll live to see the beauty in small things like this play of light and shadow.

The Tree -  _Lord Death_ , she supposes - interrupts her thought.

"Now, then," the shell of a God says, suddenly all business. "If you're going to face Asura again, there are a few things we should discuss."

Another sigh. A few things? The elation of getting her scythe back, the anger, it all drains in a swirl of weariness. Her endless day is about to get yet longer and the hardest part of her journey still lies ahead. Maybe she should rest. Yes. She can't afford to dwell on the past anymore, not when years of confinement and suffering could soon come to an end depending on  _her_ actions.

The Great Prick Deku Tree offers refuge and protection by creating a branchy makeshift tent around her while she sleeps through the night. The cool ground prompts Maka to dream about being underwater at the shrine again, wondering- what if she had fallen deeper into those dark depths?

Then she wakes, blinking at grey daybreak, grateful for being on ground where she can stand. That dark shrine water had been a nightmare at first.

"There was a storm," the Tree informs sagely, pointing to the sky. "But I kept you safe! It's the least I could do, I did make a promise to your-"

"I have to go." Maka picks herself off the grass, brushes off her leggings, and hugs the Master Scythe closer, its blade against her cheek equally invigorating as the smell of fresh rain.

It's now or never.

"Bring back whatever's left of my decrepit soul," Lord Death coos as she waves goodbye. There is little need for Maka to glance back over her shoulder to confirm a cocky smile plastering itself over bark and would-be facial lines. The tone conveys it all. "And bring back your Soul too, of course."

A smart remark dies in Maka's throat when the image of Wes disguised as a traveler pops into her mind. She had made a  _promise_ to him, and she could never forgive herself if she doesn't follow through. Unlike Asura, she's mortal, the fragility and impermanence of her flesh growing more apparent as each step carries her further away from Lord Death's wacky limbed protection and closer to what might be her last battle. Perhaps more than a few hours of reprise would sway the odds of survival, of winning, to her side, but she's waited a hundred years for this moment- there is no use in waiting. Either way, she'll make sure to go down fighting.

That's precisely her plan when she finally reaches the outskirt of the derelict town. Her blood boils with indignation, hatred,  _loss_ at the sight of the gaping hole on the east castle wall, chunks of stone strewn about as if a bomb had exploded. Maka barrells through the opening, Scythe in hand, temples aching because she's clenching her jaw so tightly, the memories rushing back. Her mama and papa protected this castle until their end, and now it's her duty to carry on their legacy and  _win_.

"FIGHT ME!" Heavy footfalls mark her presence her through the cobweb adorned hallways, shoving Kishin aside with her bare hands as they attempt to take her down. She's gone mad.  _Mad_. "ASURA! Fight me, you pathetic cow-butt licking COWARD-"

A laugh rumbles in her chest. Oh, Soul is louder than ever, so close and yet so far. ' _That's… an interesting insult.'_

"Shut up, Soul," she mutters, biting her lower lip and cursing her cheeks for heating up. Redirecting the nervous energy into rage, she thunders on, no hesitation in her swing, the Master Scythe beyond deadly in her hands as she breaks down age-weakened doors in search of Asura.

The difference in the castle- a symbol of pain and failure- wrings her heart. It's too much to take in. Dust and grime now cover the tattered, faded portraits hanging crookedly on the walls. Moss and mold have conquered the imported, broken down furniture supplying endless hiding places for Kishin to jump out and assault Maka, several close calls leaving her arms scratched, her legs bloodied, and her anger levels through the roof.

"SHOW YOURSELF, ASURA!"

' _And it's not like Asura can go to you… I'm babysitting him, remember?"_

Her face flushes, pretending it's the result of beheading a clown Kishin instead of Soul's remark. "Just tell me where you are, Soul!"

' _Follow the sound of my voice.'_

She can hear the grin in his snicker, cute dimple appearing on his left cheek. A shriek blares out of her before she can contain it, releasing giddiness at the prospect of reuniting with Soul, of facing Asura, of failing. All her training and battles and clue hunting and pain have boiled down to this hour. Who knows, it could have all been in vain, save for this reunion she anticipates so wholeheartedly.

"Don't play with me, Soul, I want to see you!" Maka allows a couple of hot tears to stream down her cheeks. Maybe she won't ever sit in the sun and write poetry again. This time, Soul won't be able to carry her to the Resurrection Shrine, won't be able to save her or hold Asura back for long. "I want to end this now!"

' _Maka… Don't…'_  The sudden stab of urgency in Soul's voice sends tendrils of paralyzing terror down her spine.  _'I'm losing my control over him...'_

A shrill, ungodly scream stills the air. It's the rebirth of Evil. For an insane second, she loses her hearing, her sight, her bravery - this is the definition of a living nightmare: darkness, tortured souls shrieking all around her, a pit of doom deepening in her stomach, death the only guarantee.

' _RUN, RUN RIGHT NOW!"_

She does, but it's like wading through sand, her movements frustratingly slow, her body begging not to head toward danger and instead into the refuge of the lost woods where neither friend nor foe would be able to track her down. Her foot catches on the debris she attempts to leap over, vision blurring as white hot pain shoots through her bones. A shadow looms over her as she rubs her eyes.

' _... Sorry, Maka.'_

Standing before her in the middle of the courtyard, fully awake, fully formed, in full power, Asura is more massive than she could have possibly imagined. Pupiless eyes take her in, red where there should be white, lips contorted, tongue split like a snake. He towers, bandages flailing as he bellows sheer rage.

Despite his menacing appearance, Maka trudges up what her mama taught her: impossible is nothing. In an act of shaky defiance, Maka stands, tightening her pigtails casually, twirling her Scythe, steadying her panic.

"You will  _die_ ," Asura seethes, teeth glinting.

Somewhere within, still lending her strength, is Soul,  _her Soul._ She will end this, she will save him, she  _must_. But she feels so small within his shadow, so fragile. Even with the Master Scythe, how can she face so much alone? How can she be enough?

' _You're not alone, '_ he soothes. ' _Never alone._ '

But she is,  _she is_ ; her king is trapped by his own power and she's the only one who can save him. The world rests on her shoulders and she finally feels them breaking, the burden too much. Has she come so far only to fail?

The loud shout of "YAHOO," felt more than heard, is the only warning she gets before the world erupts.

Flame, ice, wind, and lightning fall upon Asura in rain of terror, and the calamity that has been set upon them for so long, the terror upon this world,  _howls_.

The beasts— _the beasts!_ Freed from Asura's dark power, her comrades fight for her, with her.

' _Damn right we weren't gonna leave all the fun to you!_ ' It's not Soul, though the voice is familiar. Vah Rudania leaps forward and hurls fire before quickly bounding back.

"Black*Star? How?"

' _Well, I'm dead, and your boy has some pretty potent psychic shit he can do, so here we are_.'

' _We're with you, Maka._ ' A new voice cuts into her mind as Vah Medoh swoops and hits Asura with a column of wind, knocking him back then flying off out of range of pursuing bandages.

"Kid," she whispers, then leaps to one side, narrowly avoiding a brutal swipe of a bandage as Asura regains himself and bellows down at her.

" _DIE_." It's a shriek, potent with fear and rage.

' _You can do this! We've got your back!'_

' _Yeah, what Sissy said! You ain't gotta do nothin' alone!'_

"Liz! Patti!" The enormous camel bounds closer and releases a lightning bolt that stuns Asura for the barest instant. As he recovers, he swats the beast back with one engorged appendage and Vah Naboris careens back, crashing into the remains of one tower and decimating it completely.

' _Can't kill what's already dead.'_ The humor in Liz's thought tinges just briefly with sadness as the camel stands tall amidst the rubble.

' _We're all here, Maka. We all vowed to follow you, to follow Soul, to defeat Asura together, and we will fulfil that vow."_ The solemnity in Tsubaki's words strikes Maka as the enormous stag hurls ice, staggering Asura. Vah Ruta leaps away before the enemy can strike.

"Together," Maka agrees, gripping her Scythe all the tighter.

They all took a vow, every one of them. The realization is everything: Maka doesn't have to do this alone. They've always been stronger together and she will face this, will face Asura, they all will.

' _Told you you're not alone.'_ Soul's voice re-enters her mind. There's a smugness there, but Maka can also feel his struggle. Keeping himself whole within Asura's raw malevolence now that it has achieved its full potential strains him, wears him thin.

Then Asura bellows again, sheer rage, and chaos reigns as the courtyard is swarmed with Kishin.

Maka leaps to avoid one, large and shadowy, scrambling onto Vah Rudania's enormous tail to escape the madness.

' _We'll handle the Kishin,_ ' Kid implores as Vah Medoh swoops low to blast the horde near Maka and Vah Rudania with wind. ' _You deal with Asura. We've injured him, but only the Master Scythe can end this. Only you can weaken him enough to allow Soul to seal him for good!'_

' _You got this, Maka!'_ Black*Star shouts in her mind as he slowly circles Asura and angles the enormous salamander's tail to allow her to leap off with ease into a patch of courtyard clear of Kishin. ' _So get to it!'_

Maka steadies herself from her place on the ground, standing tall. Black*Star is right; it's time.

' _Go,_ ' Soul agrees. ' _I'm with you. GO!'_

Running forward, she wields her scythe with deadly precision. "Asuuuura!" she shrieks. "Your soul is mine!" Her scythe moves in an arc as she makes a leap and cuts into his stomach, causing him to howl, black blood gushing from him and painting the courtyard in his ichor.

Asura howls again, lashing out blindly, and Maka's hit by one of his flailing bandages, crashing into the lone surviving tower at one corner of the courtyard. Chaos erupts around her as the beasts keep the flood of Kishin off of her, and she crouches on one knee. One Kishin breaks through, dark and massive and drooling, and she stares at it, dazed.

' _Get up! Fight!'_ As always, Soul is with her, bolstering her, so Maka regains her composure, slicing through the Kishin easily with her scythe. But it's not over and this is not the real threat and her head throbs from impact.

' _You have to do this now, strike! You can do this! Please, Maka! It's almost done!'_

Soul's strength courses through her, strength he can little afford to lend, and she scrambles to her feet, Scythe ready. Maka can feel him drowning in the madness through their link and she knows she has to end this right  _now_.

There isn't time for pain, for fear, for regret. There is only here and now, the promise she vowed to keep.

' _Go!'_

She goes, runs, feet flying. Vah Ruta and Vah Medoh have resumed strikes upon Asura as Vah Rudania and Vah Naboris keep the dwindling Kishin horde from Maka. Streaking through the gap they afford her, she leaps onto a mound of rubble, leaps off, uses the leverage to make a high strike at her enemy. His back is to her, distracted, so she bellows, "Asura!" and he whips around just in time to meet her scythe, which slices into his chest, a wicked, diagonal arc, nearly clefting him in twain.

"Soul, now! NOW!"

It's time, Maka can feel it in every fibre of her being. The Master Scythe has struck a second blow - not fatal, but crippling. Now is the time Soul's power can work, can seal the evil, hopefully for good.

The white light is blinding as she feels Soul's power unleashed fully, erupting, bolstered by her strength, by the vitality of her scythe just as she has been inspired by the strength of their friends. It is their combined will that drives the light, and it's clean and pure as it erupts in a column of pure power that expands outward, burning away all darkness in its path, Asura, Kishin, everything. The darkness cannot survive, there is only the light, blinding, and even Maka shields her eyes as she lands, crouched near where Asura had stood, waiting to strike another blow if needed.

But it's not…

With the only remains of Asura being the black spots on her tunic, the battle is over.

The misty shape of a black cloak floats in the sky before zipping away in the direction of the Lost Forest.

Lord Death lives.

She  _won! They won!_

Finally, a promise that could be kept.

Their beasts parked and now standing in a line like soldiers, her friends salute her. Black*Star gestures a hearty goodbye, turning and walking away until he fades into nothingness. Kid nods at Maka once, brimming with respect, taking Liz and Patti's hands in preparation for their departure. The latter blows a raspberry at Maka, waving grandly, kissing her sobbing sister. Beside them, Tsubaki takes Wes's hand; he refuses it and swathes an arm around her shoulder… and with that, the betrayal is forgiven.

Then they're all gone, and Maka is permanently alone again, never to see her friends in this life. It happened so fast. She didn't even get to say goodbye.

Seconds later, a beam of light shines down from the Heavens - not the dim, faint greyness that blanketed the world during her travels, but a warm, yellow glow that recedes with splendor, revealing someone she didn't know she missed  _so much_.

He stands there, eyes only on her, worry apparent by the way he bites his lip, and his voice comes out softly. "Hi, Maka. Do you... remember me?"

She's been alone for one hundred years. Asleep. Unaware. And he's been alone just as long, not knowing when it would end, keeping Evil at bay, waiting for her… wondering if her memory of him has been erased by both time and the healing powers of the Resurrection Shrine. Gulping down a twinge of sorrow, Maka takes a step forward, then another, and another until he's an arm's length away.

The eyes are the same, maybe a shade darker than she remembers, but just as expressive and sleepy. His mouth is the same too: a hint of a frown, punctuated by the line between his furrowed eyebrows. The dimple that appears when he smiles at her finger tracing his nose is what convinces her, though - she's had a soft spot for his left cheek for a little over a century.

"Oh!" Maka brings up her other hand to hold his face, their height difference staggering. "It  _is_  you! Wow!" She's cut off, lifted by strong arms, twirled around, squeezed. "You're Soul! You look exactly like you did back then-"

He hasn't put her down yet, not that Maka has any complaints. The view from here is mighty fine in her opinion. She smooths down his hair and brushes stray brow hairs back into place, sighing happily. Running her hands down his arms leads her to feel something familiar at his elbows, leather wrapped around his forearms and hands.

"My  _gloves_ ," she cries, unashamed of touching him. She has to make sure he's real and not a figment of her imagination, after all. "You had them all along! I thought I had lost them."

He turns a vivid shade of carnation pink. "Yeah, sorry, had to protect my hands. Safety and whatnot."

Maka nods, vaguely aware of her lopsided pigtails. The hair ties must have come loose during the battle. She's a  _mess_ , but at least she's safe and  _braver_ than before _._ "Let's see if they kept your hands soft, too."

There's irony in the disappointment that tugs at her when Soul gently puts her down to slip the gloves off - when she awakened months ago, she wanted to have her feet on the ground always. She apparently lost her right boot sometime during the battle, though that loss is nothing compared to the absence of his touch. As soon as the gloves are off, she's attached to him again, lacing her fingers between his, basking in the ridges of his fingerprints and the soft spaces between his calluses.

Both falling silent, Maka slowly becomes aware of the tension in Soul's hands, in his arms, in his slumped shoulders. When she meets his eyes, a distant melancholy takes her by surprise. She holds both of his hands in her own, smiling gently. "Straighten up, don't slouch."

Soul corrects his posture, but his frown persists. "Old habits die hard, Maka."

"True…"

He rolls his bottom lip between his teeth the way she's seen him do when he's feeling scared and alone. Maka can feel his heartbreak, wishes she could fix that, too.

"What's on your mind, Soul?"

"I'm alone now," he opens up, shrugging to cover up how deep the reality has settled. "Wes is dead. Tsubaki… Liz, Patti… Everyone we knew a hundred years ago is… gone."

Maka widens her eyes in the effort to not let more tears shed. She'll have her whole life to grieve a life lost with her parents, but right now the most important thing is consoling Soul, reassuring him of his innocence, that he did what he could with what he had. He focuses on the ground until she stumbles over her words, realizing he's off in his own world and stopped listening. She pops his nose to get his attention. "Soul? What're you thinking about?"

"That it feels like we got a second chance."

The idea sounds Maka. For a second it's almost as if she's back at the Resurrection Shrine, submerged in water, being born again.

Soul still won't meet her gaze. "And, you know… you were never really alone. I've been here this whole time."

Maka chokes up a little but manages to nod, caught off guard by his sweetness.

"And now we have our whole lives ahead of us…"

The idea is both wonderful and frightening at once.

Soul, however, is brave, so so  _brave._ "Um, back then… You said you didn't want me to go to the ends of the world for you. Said you didn't want me to do that unless you could come too... So, uhh..." He rubs the back of his neck and looks at her, sheepish grin making her heart flip. "What do you say, want to explore what's left of my Kingdom with me? We can rebuild together."

She has no words left. Affection toward him swells in her chest as she nods, the future suddenly exciting and fulfilling. "Is that a proposal?"

Making him blush is her new favorite hobby. He self consciously pats down his hair and slides his hand over his eyes before resting his hands on her shoulders. The look he gives her is one of honesty - shy, yes, but certain. "Yeah, guess so… in more ways than one."

Standing up on her tippy toes, she pecks his cheek quickly in response, sure that it's okay with him to continue when he breaks into a grin. Maybe it's the aftereffects of the adrenaline rush, but she finds she's brave enough to slant her mouth over his, feeling his doubts slip away as their kiss deepens. Maybe their future is shaky at best, what with killing straggling Kishin, beginning to restore the kingdom to its former glory piece by piece, but at least they'll do it hand in hand. It'll be like they're alone in this world  _together_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading!


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